No Dumb Witness
by briroch
Summary: Did she fall or was she pushed? The death of an old lady appears to be an accident. Mike Stone and Steve Keller have a helper in this case...
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I do not own the Streets of San Francisco Characters, I only use them for my amusement- and hopefully the amusement of my readers, too!_**

_A/N:The character of Andy bears striking similarities to my present cat- with bits of other cats mixed in that used to live with me and made my life better._

_A big** thank you** goes to Tanith 2011 for beta reading this story._

_An equally big thank you to Mounty Swiss, for giving me the idea of letting my cat appear in one of the stories!_

**_No Dumb Witness_**

Inspector Steve Keller stretched his stiff back and stifled a yawn. It had been a long night and an even longer day stretched ahead of him. He was looking into the glass cubicle, where his partner Mike Stone was at his desk, when the phone rang.

"Homicide, Stone." His partner barked.

Steve tried to listen to the one sided conversation, but from what he could gather he'd better put on his sports coat and be ready to go. Yep, was right, he thought as he watched Mike grab his coat and hat and jumped up to follow him to the car.

"What's up, Mike?"

"An old lady died in a fall in her house in Pacific Heights. It's probably nothing, but we need to follow it up."

"It would be nice to find out something was an accident and not a murder, for once…" Steve mused. Mike shot him a half reproachful and half amused look. "Oh yeah, you would like an open and shut case wouldn't you so that you can get some shuteye tonight. It's disgraceful the way you are dragging. You were home at one, no reason to be tired. "

Steve sighed. "And you were back on my doorstep at seven."

"That gives you six hours of sleep, buddy boy."

"_Six hours?_ Deduct time for a shower and something to eat and… besides, I am still of an age where you need your sleep, unlike some…"

The banter went on in the car until they reached their destination in the form of a nice house in an equally nice neighbourhood. Steve looked up at the many steps leading up to the front door.

"And you said the victim was an old lady?" a note of doubt crept into his voice. He braced himself and started the climb.

"That's what keeps us older people fit- lots of stairs and we don't lounge in bed all day, youngster!" Mike passed his younger partner on the steps in an energetic stride and slapped his back playfully.

The crime scene team was already there and Bernie, the medical examiner, was still kneeling next to the body of a frail looking white haired lady.

"She was found right here by her neighbour who holds a key. She got suspicious when the milk was still on the doorstep at eight."

"What do you reckon, Bernie?" Mike asked.

"It looks very much like a fall down the stairs. She was old, unsteady on her feet. Maybe she even tripped over this little fellow." The medical examiner pointed at an overstuffed chair. It was only then that the two detectives noticed a small black cat was hiding under it, watching their every move with suspicious green eyes.

"Aaw, the poor little guy! You're not serious, Bernie!" Steve dropped on his knees and tried to entice the cat out from under its hiding place. Bernie watched the young man and laughed. "According to the neighbour, the cat is underfoot all the time and tripped Mrs Dwyer up on numerous occasions!"

Steve was rewarded with a cautious sniff of his finger and a loud purr. He smiled with delight. "He likes me. He must be so frightened, the poor little thing."

Mike was amused. He knew that his partner was fond of animals, whenever they passed a dog or a horse he tried to pat it, but he had never seen him this affectionate before. "I'll leave you to interrogate this witness here while I talk to the neighbour." Mike suppressed a grin and made his way over to a lady in her late sixties, who was sitting on the sofa, a cup of water in her shaking hands. "Such a shock to find poor Dessie dead…"

When the interview, that yielded nothing new, was finished, Mike went in search of his partner. He found Steve and the black cat in the kitchen, where the young man was feeding the animal a can of cat food all the while talking to it and stroking its back. When the cat heard footsteps, it looked up in alarm. "It's okay, little guy, Mike won't hurt you." Steve soothed and the cat resumed eating.

"Did he tell you something?" Mike joked. "I bet you- you didn't even get his personal details but I did. His name is Andy and he is nine years old. You will need this kind of information when you drop him off at the animal rescue shelter later on."

Steve looked up from scratching the cat's back. "There surely must be someone to take him in. Such a nice cat!" he exclaimed indignantly.

"The neighbour is allergic to cat dander and there is only a niece. It could be a while until she decides what to do with the cat."

The cat in question had stopped eating and left the room, howling at the top of his voice as it tried to follow the gurney the paramedics were wheeling towards the ambulance. Steve ran after him and scooped the agitated animal up in his arms. The little black cat burrowed under Steve's jacket and calmed down. "You poor little orphan. I know you are sad…" Steve cooed.

Mike watched him with a mix of exasperation and affection. He had seen Steve falling for pretty girls- but falling head over heels for a cat- well, that was a new one!

At this stage everybody else had left the crime scene. Mike wanted to stay on and look around the place without the distraction of photographers and the forensics team dusting for prints. He walked around the well-kept house, trying to get a feel for the place.

The black cat, reassured that the commotion had stopped, ventured out from under Steve's jacket and went sniffing and searching through the house, closely followed by Steve.

"He's looking for his momma…" Steve stopped when he noticed that Mike was giving him The Stare. "Do you think a cat has no feelings? I suppose you're more of a dog man yourself."

"I never thought you had this much interest in anything that isn't a woman." Mike quipped.

"Very funny. But come to think of it, a cat- like a woman- wants to be won over…"

"Stop giving me unwanted advice about women and better watch your new friend. The little devil is up to no good." Mike noticed that the cat was very busy clawing and batting at something in the corner at the foot of the stairs, close to where his owner had been found.

Steve bent down and carefully disentangled a thin piece of string from the cat's claws.

"Careful there, Andy. You could hurt your little paws, see, there's a nail attached to the string." He pulled the dangling object away from Andy's reach.

"Careful there with that little head of yours, buddy boy!" Mike mimicked Steve's tone of voice. "I always suspected that love affects your brain, but this takes the biscuit! After you and the cat mauling it, it is very unlikely to yield anything, but we might try!"

Steve looked at his mentor with a slightly sheepish expression on his face. "You mean this could be some evidence?"

"Yes, buddy boy; you know for a college graduate, sometimes you can be very slow on the uptake."

"Sorry, I may be a bit distracted right now…" Steve prised open the cat's claws which had latched on to his tie.

"I thought you wanted to clear your new best friend's reputation! So get down on your knees and see if there are any holes that could have been made by a nail in the wall or skirting board near the stairs."

The young man obediently let go of the cat and examined the wall and skirting boards carefully.

"You were right, Mike, this could be it!" He pointed at a tiny hole at ankle height right at the top of the stairs and soon found a corresponding hole at the same height on the bannister. _Yes, you could have easily rigged up a bit of twine there._ Stumbling over a tripwire at the top of the stairs would be enough to make an old lady who was unsteady on her feet to take a tumble. The cat had followed them up and pressed his sturdy little body between the two men.

Steve giggled. "I think he wants us to play with him."

"And I think you want a kick up your butt. We are here to solve a crime, not to entertain a cat." Mike was exasperated. This was a completely new side to his partner and he wasn't quite sure if he liked it or not.

"Steve, get Tom back to fingerprint the area here and then take care of the fleabag. We should be heading back to the bureau." Mike sounded quite gruff now.

Steve picked up the cat and went downstairs to make a phone call. Mike soon joined him in the living room. "Where is the closest animal shelter, so that we can drop him off on the way?"

"Aahw, Mike, you don't really mean this, do you?" Steve pleaded. "He must be so scared and lonely; the poor little thing has just lost his only friend…"

"It didn't take him long to make a new one, so don't you worry about him!"

The cat had snuggled back under Steve's jacket purring loudly. Mike scrutinised his partner, there was something going on he couldn't quite fathom.

"Mike?" Steve tried again. "He might be a material witness. Couldn't we at least try and find a foster home for him?"

"Don't give me the puppy dog eyes!" Mike's resolve began to weaken. "And don't even dream of unloading the beast on me."

Steve flashed Mike a mischievous smile and proceeded to pick up the cat's belongings, the litter tray, a cat bed and a supply of cat food. Mike watched the whole process with disgust, especially the litter tray.

Steve's grin widened when he asked: "What would you rather carry, the cat or the litter tray?"

When the older man picked up the litter tray and looked at the cat he could have sworn he had seen a smirk on the cat's face…

Back at the office Steve introduced the cat as a material witness in need of protection and settled him in a basket under his desk amid a chorus of oohs and aahs. Once again Mike was surprised at the reaction the nondescript small black cat received. _Okay, he is kind of cute, alright and he does possess a certain charm… Stop it, Mike, the little demon is casting his spell over you, too!_

"Now, Steve, how about doing a bit of work for a change?" Mike suggested when the door opened and his daughter Jeannie walked in.

"Hi Mike! Hi Steve! I was in the area and thought we could go for lunch together." She greeted them with a friendly smile.

"A wonderful idea, sweetheart, but it will have to be just the two of us. Our Steve here is too busy protecting a witness to have lunch with us!"

"What witness?" Jeannie asked curiously when a black head poked out from under the young Inspector's desk and a pair of bright green eyes scrutinised her with interest. "What a cute kitty! Where did you get her?"

"It's a boy and his name is Andy." Steve began to tell the story and Jeannie went down on her knees to pet the feline. A short time later she was sitting at Steve's desk with a purring and very contented cat curled up on her lap, all plans about going out for lunch was forgotten.

"Why don't you get us some takeout and we can have our lunch here, Mike?" she suggested. Her father sighed, knowing when he was beaten and headed out of the office.

"I reckon our friend might like a plain burger…" Steve called after him.

When Mike returned, he found Steve and Jeannie immersed in deep conversation.

"I never knew you were so fond of cats, Steve!"

"Ah well, this little fellow reminds me of a cat I once had as a kid. When I went to live with my aunt and uncle they gave me a black cat to look after. Okay, I was quite gullible then and bought the story of the lonely orphan kitty that needed a friend. They told me years later that they were looking for a kitten but in the end had to rope in a more mature farm cat to comfort me. "He chuckled. "Until the cat died many years later, my aunt had to turn a blind eye on the fact that the he was sleeping in my bed every night."

Mike swallowed, trying to rid himself of a guilty feeling. After all he had planned to drop the cat off at a shelter, not knowing what emotions the black cat had set free in his partner. _But I will not bring the fleabag home with me. Let Steve have another cat sleeping in his bed!_

Mike dropped the brown paper bag on the desk and handed out the food. He was the only one that ate his entire hamburger, while Jeannie and Steve ended up eating the bun with the salad and the black cat dined on broken up chunks of beef patty that he delicately ate out of his benefactors' fingers. Whenever the meat supply stopped, a plaintiff howl pierced the air.

"You have him spoiled!" Mike warned. "You watch, he'll never eat cat food again."

"But Mike, he just lost his home…"

"Oh no, Jeannie, no! We are not taking the cat home with us and that is final."

Steve and Jeannie exchanged glances, when Tanner approached. "No need, I know my missus and the kids will only be too happy to look after the little guy." He offered.

"I'll take him when you go on holidays, Bill!" Haseejian chimed in.

"Hey, guys,_ I'm_ the one who found him!" Steve protested.

"And how do you think you will look after a cat working the hours that you do?" Mike remarked acerbically.

"Well, I could bring him here during the day, he seems quite happy here…"the young man's voice trailed off when he noticed that the Captain was standing nearby and appeared to have been listening in to part of the conversation.

"Keller, care to explain the menagerie you are planning to keep here?" Olson said in a voice that allowed no protests and buts or sugar coating the issue at hand, although he was inwardly laughing at the idea of his men fighting over a cat.

While Steve told the story of the cat, Rudy's expression softened. "Maybe we could keep him here until the question of his ownership is cleared." He approached the feline who was perched happily on Steve's desk, then reached down and rubbed the cat under its chin. "The old lady's next of kin might want him as a keepsake."

Steve swallowed. He had never thought of that!

"If you can bear to be separated from your friend, maybe we can go down to the morgue and find out more about the death of his momma." Mike suggested. Then he turned to his daughter. "Do you want to stay here and do the cat sitting, or have you got other plans for the afternoon?"

Jeannie had been following the exchange with interest and hadn't paid any attention to the cat. It was only when she bent down to pick up her handbag that she noticed the zip of the bag had been prised open by agile little paws and a black head was stuck inside. "Aahw, how cute! He's looking for treats!" she cooed.

"More likely he is trying to get away with your money." Mike smirked.

The black furry head struggled to drag a large, colourful object out of the slightly too small opening. Eventually the cat succeeded and sat proudly with a postcard clamped in his vampire fangs. Jeannie blushed slightly. "Here, kitty, give that back to me!" but her father was faster and prised the postcard out of the cat's jaws. Jeannie made a grab for it, but Mike managed to get a glimpse of the signature under the short text- Ed Brown.* Jeannie turned deep crimson.

"Holiday greetings from a friend, if you must know!" She stuffed the card back into her bag and walked off to do her shopping, as originally planned, with as much dignity as she could muster, trying not to notice Mike's grin.

Olson laughed. "Steve, you better watch this little fellow, he seems to be a bit of a pickpocket." He patted the cat affectionately.

Down at the morgue Bernie looked over his notes. "Decima Dwyer died in the early hours of this morning from head injuries consistent with a fall down the stairs. Eighty-seven years old and in reasonably good health for her age; according to the neighbour her mobility was slightly impaired and she suffered occasional spells of dizziness. With all of those factors in mind, and the fact that she had tripped over her cat before, this would have made for an open and shut case, if you had not found evidence of a tripwire."

Steve interrupted the coroner's findings. "You mean, if the cat had not found the tripwire…"

Bernie looked up from his notes and grinned. "So I checked again. There is a barely visible mark on the front of her left leg, about ankle height, that could have been caused by a thin string, like the one you sent to the lab. The force of the body going over must have ripped the nail out of the wall and broken the twine. Did you find the other piece?"

Mike answered. "No, only what we sent in. Maybe the little black devil hid it somewhere."

"Or somebody took it." Steve added.

"Cui bono? Who profits?" Steve asked. "The niece? But that would be too obvious, wouldn't it?" "Buddy, boy, sometimes the obvious can actually be the truth, not all cases have to be complicated!" Mike replied.

"Okay, so I suppose I better go and check out Mrs. Dwyer's niece," Steve suggested.

"You do that and while you are at it, type up the report. You know, I have to be in court in half an hour," Mike reminded him.

Steve sighed and made his way back upstairs where the paperwork beckoned.

When Mike returned late in the afternoon, he had expected to see the report on the case of Decima Dwyer sitting on top of his desk. He would have settled for the typed sheets on Steve's desk, or even Steve still typing the last page. What he didn't expect, however, was a black cat stretched out over Steve's typewriter, fast asleep…

Steve was sitting at the desk, gently stroking the soft fur on the cat's paws. Mike felt his temper rising_. And even if a cat had saved his life when he was a child, this is all too much!_ He shouted, _"Steve!"_ and both Steve and the cat jumped - the cat with a hiss and a howl, while Steve let out a loud "Ouch!" as the cat had used his hand as a launch pad for the jump.

"Steve! What do you think you're doing? Watching a cat sleep when you should be working? Where is the report you were supposed to type? Did you check out the niece at all? _And take your hand out of your mouth; you have been handling the filthy cat all day!_" Mike didn't even try to hide his anger and frustration with his partner.

The young man looked at the scratched and bloody back of his hand that he had instinctively brought to his mouth, at a loss for words.

"Go wash your hands and clean up that scratch. Then I want to talk to you." Mike spoke in a lower voice now. He looked under the desk, where a pair of hostile green eyes was glaring at him. "I'm telling you, the cat is pure evil!"

"Mike!" Steve protested. "You frightened him and he jumped. He didn't mean to scratch me…"

"If you don't scat right now, I will mean every injury I inflict on you." Mike threatened and his partner walked out quietly.

Normally this kind of exchange between Mike and Steve would have been met with hilarity from the other detectives in the office, but not today. Stony silence filled the department until Haseejian walked over to Steve's desk and picked up the cat. "There now, little fellow, Uncle Norm will take care of you and won't let the bad man get you." He looked in Mike's direction and grinned. The cat snuggled up against the cop and head butted his chin. Mike shook his head and withdrew into his office, muttering under his breath.

When Steve returned, the older man's temper had cooled somewhat and he felt quite bad for losing it in front of the colleagues_. Telling Steve to go and wash his hands…_

He scrutinised the scratch on his protégé's hand and in spite of Steve's protests insisted on dabbing it with iodine and covering it with a plaster. Steve gave in and allowed the ministrations to continue, realising it was Mike's way of apologising. Then he broke the silence. "It took longer than expected to check out the old lady's niece, you know," he began. "I was just going to make a start on the report…"

"Forget it!" Mike waved the apology aside. "Tell me about this niece!"

"Well, first of all, she doesn't live in the States; she lives and works in London. I found that out from Mrs Dwyer's neighbour. It felt like I spent the entire afternoon on the phone to her. My, oh my, the lady can talk."

"There are flights!" Mike insisted.

"Yes, flights from London where she lives. London is eight hours ahead of us, so I couldn't get anyone at her workplace to provide her with an alibi. I'll do that tomorrow. By the way- the niece is on her way over as we speak- Mrs Dwyer's neighbour told me she rang her niece while she was waiting for the ambulance. Did she tell you she had informed the family?" Steve asked.

"No, she didn't mention it, but the poor old dear was pretty rattled after finding her friend dead." Mike answered. "A pity, though, she could have given the niece the head start to provide herself with an alibi." The older man added pensively.

Steve grinned. "Aw, come on, Mike, you're not making sense now. How can she receive a phone call in London and be in San Francisco to rig up the tripwire?"

Mike thought for a moment. "Well, I suppose it would have been too pat… But did the neighbour speak to her or leave a message for her at work or at home?"

"To be honest, it didn't occur to me to ask her that." Steve made mental calculations. "No, Mike, I don't think it is possible to fly back in time."

"What about the time difference?" Mike inquired.

Steve sighed. "That's what I'm just trying to figure out, you know. Eight hours…. Say she left here at around midnight. Flight time would take around eleven hours… That would be eleven in our morning, but seven in the evening London time. So she wouldn't be even back in England yet, would she?" Steve laughed out loud. "It would work a treat the other way round. I must bear that in mind if I ever want to kill someone in England!"

Mike was getting seriously confused about the different time zones. "What if she never went back to England but has an accomplice to take the message for her? And besides, she could have hired someone to do it!"

"You are intent on pinning it on the niece, aren't you?" Steve was amused.

"I'm only thinking of you, my boy! If she is legit she can walk off with your cat tomorrow and you can't do anything about it." Mike deadpanned.

Steve eyed him suspiciously. "You're pulling my leg now, aren't you?"

Mike burst out laughing. Steve chucked politely. "Maybe I better ring the neighbour and find out who took the message!" the young man conceded but the phone was ringing out.

"I suppose we might as well wait for the niece. According to our main source of information Mrs Fleming will arrive in San Francisco tomorrow morning. And please Mike, don't ask me about the time difference again!"

"Okay, buddy boy, I won't. But I have another question. What are you going to do with the fleabag over night?"

* see FF story "The Dangers of Maths and Love" by Mounty Swiss


	2. Chapter 2

When Mike arrived the following morning he found his partner already at his desk, busily typing up the neglected report from the day before. Furthermore, a replete and contented cat, smelling of tinned tuna was curled up next to the typewriter and only very occasionally batted Steve's fast moving fingers. The kitty litter was fresh smelling and sparkling clean. Steve knew he was threading on very thin ice when it came to keeping a cat in a public building, especially when the man who normally was his ally and backed him up, was set against having the cat around. Mike seemed in good form though, he noted with relief. He greeted Steve with a friendly "Good morning" and first ruffled Steve's hair and then tickled the cat's chin. "Am I getting a purr out of any of you? Just as a matter of interest, what did you do with Mr. Puss last night?" he asked.

Steve hesitated, not knowing what to think of his mentor's changed attitude towards the cat. "I was going to bring him home, but Healy asked if he could keep him here for company. You know he was on late duty…"

"What a good solution. Well, we'll see what the niece wants to do with the cat! When is she due to arrive, by the way?"

"Her flight should be in by now, according to the neighbour she is due to come to her house first and she will ask her to come to the Bureau and talk to us. Is that alright with you?"

"Sure, buddy boy, sure. Why not?" Mike had started tickling the cat's ears and was rewarded with a purr at last.

Steve was getting even more confused. "Mike, are you alright?"

"Sure, why not?" Mike grinned; he knew exactly what his partner was wondering about. "Oh, you mean my changed attitude to the Purring Machine here?" he asked innocently. "Well, Jeannie gave me a severe talking to last night. She told me that after spoiling her childhood by depriving her of a pet I had no right to start the same anti-pet campaign with you. There! Are you happy now?"

Steve doubled over with laughter. Spluttering- he came out with, "Oh, how I wish I had been there to hear this myself…"

Mike looked at him with a twinkle in his eye. "You would, wouldn't you? But I bet you were still busy here cleaning up after our little friend!" Mike bent over to tickle the cat's belly that he had invitingly exposed.

Steve shouted a warning "Noooo! but the black paw with sharp claws was faster and got Mike's finger. Steve looked at his mentor in dismay and finished the sentence. "He doesn't like his belly tickled…"

"Why does he roll over then and show his belly?" Mike asked, unnaturally calm.

"Err, probably his idea of a joke." Steve tried timidly.

Mike looked at him. "So we are dealing with a cat that has a sense of humour. I like that!"

Steve then decided to push it even further and tried his best imitation of Mike's gruffest voice: "Take your finger out of your mouth. You've been handling the cat! Then you'd better go and wash your hands and clean the scratch!"

Mike looked at the scratched finger he had inadvertently brought to his mouth and shook his head. "You set the cat up to do this to get back at me, admit it!"

Steve was laughing so hard that tears came unbidden to his eyes. Mike shrugged his shoulders and walked out to the bathroom, placing a well-aimed slap at the back of Steve's head in passing. He winked at the cat and the green eyes narrowed with what Mike interpreted as amusement.

An hour later a lady in her fifties appeared at the door, looking around as if searching for someone. Steve jumped up and went over to her. "Are you Mrs. Fleming?"

She nodded and replied, "And you must be one of the detectives Alice told me about. You wanted to talk to me? I must admit, I am a little confused!"

She followed Steve to Mike's office, and both of them were followed by a small black cat, tail up high in the air. Mike greeted his prime suspect in a friendly manner and offered her some coffee which she declined. "After all the years I lived in England, I have really gone off American Coffee," She said with a short but warm laugh and settled in her chair. "I really don't quite get it. Alice told me my aunt fell down the stairs. Why is this a matter for the police?"

"Well," Mike started to elaborate. "Every unexplained death warrants a police investigation until it is established that it was caused by an accident or by natural causes."

Her eyes fell on the black cat sitting next to her chair, who was meowing loudly to get attention. She scooped the animal up and hugged him. "I don't believe it! You've got Andy here!" She laughed. "Don't tell me you arrested him for murder! According to Alice, he caused Aunt Dessie to fall."

Mike chuckled. "And what are your thoughts, Mrs. Fleming? Is it possible that your aunt tripped over him and fell down the stairs?"

Mrs. Fleming thought for a minute. "Possible- yes. Likely- no, I don't think so. My aunt had cats all her life. When you are so used to cats you always expect a cat under foot and it is unlikely you actually trip over one. Do you know what I mean?" She rubbed Andy's chin and his purring grew louder.

"The neighbour," Mike consulted his notes, "Mrs Barker, stated yesterday that your aunt tripped over the cat several times and had at least one fall. Is it possible that she was just getting older and less steady on her feet to avoid a cat weaving around her legs?"

Jane Fleming absentmindedly stroked the cat's soft black fur. "I don't know, my aunt never mentioned a fall. I talked to her at least once a week and I think she would have told me about it." "Maybe she didn't want to worry you or maybe she didn't want to admit that living independently was getting dangerous for her?" Steve added his ideas.

"No, I don't think so. Aunt Dessie was completely with it and she was very realistic about independent living and future planning. She even told me quite recently she was going to change her will and put in a provision for the care of Andy." She smiled. "She was really fond of the little guy. Now I will have to make arrangements for his care."

"So she hasn't changed the will yet?"

"Not that I know of," Mrs. Dwyer's niece replied innocently.

Mike and Steve exchanged glances. _Innocent or a great actress?_

Andy, in the meantime, had jumped off her lap and busied himself extracting an object from her fine leather handbag. She laughed. "My aunt taught him this trick. She used to hide his treats in her bag and found it hilariously funny when he started going through her bag. One day he ran off with her heart medication. She didn't find it all that funny then!"Steve prised an object out of the cat's paws. It was a tag with Jane Fleming's name and a company logo printed on it. Mrs. Fleming took it out of the young man's hands.

"I was at a conference yesterday, delivering a speech, when my secretary gave me the message about my aunt's fall and I more or less upped and left there and then for Heathrow, with just a quick detour to my flat to pick up some clothes."

_A conference? Probably hundreds of witnesses!_ Mike thought and contemplated his next move.

"What would you think if I told you your aunt actually fell over a tripwire at the top of her stairs?" Mike scrutinised her face for a reaction.

The expression she wore changed from wild amusement to utter disbelief. "No, that's crazy, that's just like a plot out of those mystery books Aunt Dessie and Alice were constantly reading!" She stopped and looked at Mike. "Is this for real?"

Mike nodded his head. "We found evidence of a tripwire at the top of the stairs and a mark on your aunt's leg which was likely caused by the twine that was rigged up there."

Jane Fleming turned pale. Steve deposited the cat he had been holding on his lap to the floor and got her a glass of water.

"Who would do this to her? She was a lovely old lady, she had no enemies!"

"Who would profit?" Mike asked pointedly.

"Oh, my God!" Jane Fleming coughed up some of the water that had gone down the wrong way. Pale with shock, she took a deep breath and set her glass of water down on the desk "Do you think I could be involved in this?" She asked incredulously.

"Well, would you profit?" Mike persisted.

"This is as ridiculous as assuming poor Alice did it! If you must know, we are both going to inherit."

"Are you now?" Mike asked, a new idea forming in his head.

"I have hundreds of witnesses that can place me in London at the time of Aunt Dessie's death, and besides, while she was well off, she was far from what I would consider wealthy. My husband and I have no financial worries; we don't need any money from my aunt!" Mrs Fleming sounded very upset and angry now.

"Please, don't be offended, we are just doing our job. We need to follow up all possible leads, and as you said, who would have a reason to harm an old lady?" Steve tried to pacify her.

"I suppose you are right." With a despondent sigh, Mrs. Fleming scribbled some phone numbers on a piece of paper. "Here, this is my work number; please check out my attendance at the conference. The other number is our investment broker in London to verify our financial circumstances. I may have to ring him first to give him permission." She checked her watch. "He may be out of office already. So if you don't have any further questions I'd really like to go to my hotel and have a bit of a rest. I couldn't sleep on the plane at all." She added the name of the hotel to the scrap of paper, gave Andy's back a quick scratch then rose to her feet and waited for the detectives to excuse her.

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Mrs. Fleming for coming in. We're terribly sorry for your loss and for having to ask you these questions. We'll be in touch." Mike opened the door of his office.

Mrs. Fleming stopped at the door and turned around. "You must think me very rude. Thank you for looking after Andy for me. I'm planning to move into my aunt's house as soon as the yellow tape is lifted and will keep Andy there until I go back to England and make arrangements for him."

Mike and Steve nodded and smiled then watched her exit. "What do you think, Buddy boy?" Mike asked pensively.

"I don't know. It's impossible that she did it herself. I bet you her alibi is airtight. "

"Her husband could be an accomplice?"

"We could check immigration, of course, and find out if he travelled to the States recently. Unless the investment manager is part of the conspiracy, I am sure we'll find out tomorrow that the couple is financially sound and doesn't need auntie's money. It all sounds as far-fetched as saying the old neighbour is the killer!"

"And why not, Steve? Why not? Mrs Fleming and the neighbour seem friendly enough to have worked together in killing off the old lady. They both profit from it!"

"But would the niece point out this fact to us?" Steve interjected.

"She does a great innocent act, doesn't she? And besides, we are bound to find out about the will anyhow. I think we need to talk to old Mrs. Barker and search auntie's house again. We might find a draft of her new will or even the missing piece of string!" Mike decided.

Steve picked up his coat and the car keys, ready to go, but Mike kept looking at him expectantly.

"I think you have forgotten something!" he hinted.

Steve looked at him blankly.

"It's black and furry and belongs to Mrs Fleming and would be better off returned to his own surroundings until his future is taken care of."

"But, Mike!"

"No buts and no arguing. You knew this was only a temporary arrangement and it was fun while it lasted. So get your little friend ready for the trip. I bet you he will be glad to see his old haunts again!" Mike's voice and the expression on his face left little doubt that he was serious about this.

Steve had to admit that Mike was right. The little cat jumped out of his arms the moment they entered the house and scarpered off, sniffing and reacquainting himself with his territory.

"He'll be looking for his momma now and that's not good…" Steve muttered.

"I didn't know that you did cat psychology at College," Mike remarked. "You take the upstairs and I'll start downstairs. Mr Pussycat can search wherever he wants."

Steve didn't reply and just climbed up the stairs.

"And no sulking!" Mike shouted after him. The cat came bounding out of the kitchen and followed Steve up the stairs, shooting through his moving legs. Mike was impressed how quickly his agile young partner regained his balance. _If there hadn't been the string at the top of the stairs, I would have certainly believed the story of Andy tripping her up!_ Mike thought.

The older detective started searching the family room. He began with a big, glass fronted cabinet. Thankfully, old Mrs. Dwyer had been very tidy and methodical. Everything was neatly filed and labelled. Bills, document, and a folder with the sticker: "My last will and testament". Mike opened it eagerly, when he heard a key turn in the door. He spun around and was astonished to see Mrs. Barker entering. She seemed very flustered and almost shocked to find someone in the house and started explaining, "Oh, I noticed the yellow tape was off and thought I'd check out the place before Jane moves in, you know, make sure it is aired and so on…" Mike, though getting very suspicious, addressed her in a friendly voice. "Great to see you, Mrs. Barker. We were planning on paying you a visit later on anyhow. We have a few more questions to ask you."

"Questions for me? Whatever for? What else could I tell you that I haven't told you before! She tripped over the cat and fell. Poor Dessie, she was so fond of the animal."

"So fond that she was going to change her will to provide for the cat." Mike pointed at the handwritten draft in the folder. He squinted and fished out his reading glasses from the inside pocket of his jacket. "Yes, she appointed you custodian of the cat and left you money for his care." Mrs. Barker laughed nervously. "Oh, that! Sure, but I certainly would have looked after poor Andy anyhow." At the mention of his name, the black cat came galloping down the stairs and started weaving around her legs, meowing loudly. When the woman paid him no attention, he stuck his head in her handbag. "Get out of there, you filthy beast!" she snapped and tried to kick him. The nimble footed cat avoided the kick with a graceful jump. Mike noticed that Andy had something in his mouth. Something that looked very much like a piece of string. _The missing piece of string?_

Mrs. Barker started wheezing and gasping for air. "I need some water to take my allergy pill… Cat dander…" She staggered towards the kitchen.

Mike was torn between following her and following the cat when he was distracted by Steve, who appeared at the top of the stairs. "Mike, guess what I found. I knew the scenario struck me as familiar somehow. Here's the book. _Dumb Witness,_ by Agatha Christie. It even has Alice Barker's name in it!" The Inspector waved a well-thumbed paperback book. He stopped abruptly. Creeping up behind Mike was Alice Barker wielding a cast iron frying pan.

Then everything seemed to happen at once. Steve called out a warning, while a black streak seemed to fly across the room, straight under Mike's feet. Mike stumbled and fell, his outstretched hands breaking the fall. The deafening clatter of a frying pan hitting the glass cabinet instead of its intended target was combined with shrieks of anger and frustration, followed by a deadly silence.

Steve rushed down the stairs, quickly recited the Miranda Rights to Mrs. Barker before he slapped on the handcuffs and then he went over to his partner. "Mike, are you okay?" Mike tried rising up on his knees, slightly dazed. He accepted Steve's helping hand that pulled him up gently. The older man winced. "You're hurt!" Steve was concerned for his partner.

"I'm fine buddy boy; just the knees are a bit stiff. So stop fussing, will you?" He waved Steve's eager hands away that were brushing off shards of glass. "Mind your own fingers!" he warned and then looked around him. "Better find that cat before he cuts himself on the glass and take that piece of string off him!" Mike advised as he sank down on a chair that was free of debris. He needed to take a few deep breaths to get his head around what had happened. He readily accepted both cat and string while Steve made a phone call to get a Black and White unit to take over their prisoner. Mrs. Barker sat silently. _She certainly seems to have understood that part of the Miranda Rights but if looks could kill, both Mike and Andy would have been history_, Steve thought.

Two days later Mike and Steve were back at the Dwyer house. Both detectives were on the settee, drinking coffee with Jane Fleming. A happily purring Andy sat snuggled between the two detectives.. "I would have never suspected Alice. She and my aunt were good friends!" Jane still found it hard to believe that her aunt's neighbour was being charged for murdering her aunt for her inheritance.

"That's what your aunt thought, too, but by including a cat Mrs. Barker disliked in the will as a beneficiary, that must have tipped Barker over the edge." Mike explained.

Steve was tickling Andy's chin. "She must be crazy. Who wouldn't like such a cute cat?" Andy closed his eyes in appreciation and his purr grew louder.

Jane watched the scene with renewed interest. "When did you first suspect her?" she asked curiously.

"Probably when you mentioned that your aunt had Alice in the will, too, but we didn't have a shred of evidence to prove it. Her fingerprints were all over the house, obviously, as she was your aunt's unofficial carer, except on the skirting board. After all the mysteries she and your aunt had read and discussed, she knew when to wear gloves. She also pocketed part of the string in the morning, after she found your aunt. The second, much shorter piece was too well hidden for her and only the cat could find it. Clever Andy!" Mike patted the cat's head.

"I half recognised the scenario," Steve said. "It was only when I found the book in your aunt's bedroom that it clicked. Her plan was more or less like a re-enactment of an Agatha Christie's plot. The old lady that had stumbled over the dog's ball before, who questions it, when she falls down the stairs and dies? Except that our Andy is no dumb witness!"

"The only risk she took was if your aunt saw the piece of string, but she took care of that, too. When Mrs Barker realised she couldn't talk herself out of being charged with murder, she decided to fully cooperate and I guess she was even a bit proud of her cunning plan. After your aunt went to bed she stayed around to clean up the kitchen for her. Then she sneaked back up and took the light bulb out of the fitting. Later on in the night she phoned your aunt." Mike told Jane.

"Oh, how often did I tell Aunt Dessie to get a phone extension in her bedroom!" Jane exclaimed.

"But I suppose that answers all my questions, bar one. What am I going to do with Andy? I can't bring him to England with me!"

Mike and Steve exchanged glances. "I suppose," Mike started, "he could embark - or emmeow- on a new career as a police cat. We can always do with someone who is good at picking a suspect's bag!"

"Would you?" Jane asked gratefully "I'd hate to leave him with strangers!"

Steve picked up the cat. "We couldn't let him go to a shelter now, not after he saved Mike's life."

Mike looked at the cat and read the smug expression on his face _as: You've been suckered, man!_


End file.
